Push
by Turbotail88
Summary: When you close your eyes and gasp, your lungs filling with death, you realise then that she's all you ever wanted. But it's too late; you've been pushed over the edge, and there's no turning back. AU Ymir/Krista


I'm trying my hand at a different kind of writing. It's mainly narrative, so if you wanted dialogue, I apologize. If you don't like the story, then I apologize once more.

My heart feels like lead right now. This is not a happy story, you have been warned.

x

She knows a secret. A secret that can flip the world on its back and destroy the foundation of governments and leader organizations. A secret so classified, so powerful, so destructive, it doesn't even exist officially on record. She stumbled upon it at various meetings and her own ways of blackmailing.

They know she knows. Who are they? Why, they are the world, the governments and the leaders. But she knows how to avoid them, having been in this trade for years. She knows how to hide for a long time, changing her name and changing her looks. Some times she's an old man, some times, she's a handsome sailor, other times, she's an expectant single mother.

She knows where to hide, too. She stays away from capitalist countries and corporate-controlled nations, as well as shady business partners. Instead, she settles for beach houses, domes on the northern tundra or nice cozy cabins in lush forests. Her savings permit her to go wherever she pleases, and it's with relief that she pats herself on the back for never trusting banks and putting her money into separate accounts.

She thinks of leaking this information, just to see the world go down in flames, but thought against it. Ymir is a selfish jerk, but even she has morals. She knows that if she leaks this little secret, it would be the end of humanity, but more importantly, the end of Krista.

Who is Krista? Why, she's a little blonde girl from the crazy city of New York. She captured Ymir's heart the moment their gazes met. The brunette had been disguised as a beggar then, asking for money she didn't need and giving it to other people when she passed them. The young woman had been watched by this strange little blonde, every day for a week, until she had been approached by her with a wide smile.

"I know what you're hiding!" she sing songed.

Ymir raised an eyebrow and ignored the stranger, rolling her eyes. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she wondered if she'd been poisoned by a government agency without her knowing.

"You're not really a beggar, are you? I bet you're loaded, but you just can't stand to see other people suffer and you want to help them. I'm like that, too!"

"You're wrong."

"Huh?"

"I _am_ a beggar, now either give me some change or leave!"

"No, you're not. Your face isn't as dirty as them and you can tell you purposefully made holes in your clothes."

"I don't care, just leave me alone!"

Of course, the blonde didn't leave her alone and continued to bother her, introducing herself and talking about her life as if Ymir actually cared. Well, she _did _care, but not in a lovey-dovey kind of way, more like a 'are you worth being friends with' kind of way.

Krista passed Ymir's unknown and harsh test with flying colours. She was allowed to sit by the brunette and watch her interact with others. Some times they talked, other times they simply sat and enjoyed each other's company. Then, at exactly eleven fifty-two every day, Krista would leave for her job and leave Ymir alone on the bustling and impersonal streets of the city that never sleeps.

It is with this memory in mind that Ymir leaves New York City with a crisp paper in her pocket, scribbled with numbers, letters and symbols forming a smile. She travels far and wide, meeting new people and integrating in their different cultures. However, none of them compare to bright blue eyes and shining blond hair. They hold no candle to exquisite beauty and a smile that lights up the grey and drab streets of New York City. There's joy in every word, every action, every touch... Ymir wants to go back and hold her tiny hands and playfully propose to her, just to see that streak of red across her cheeks.

But she can't. She may be selfish, but she would never dare to endanger Krista's life like that. She stops at phone booths across the world with international calling cards and calls Krista whenever she can, usually once a day. Krista answers with a cheerful 'hello!' and proceeds to gush about her day. Ymir is mindful of time zones and tries to place her calls before Krista leaves for work, just so the little blonde has a good mood at the start of her day.

Ymir nods into the receiver, smiling, and leans against a phone booth in the cold streets of Moscow when Krista mentions how excited she was to have been promoted in her job. She's now an assistant manager, she exclaims with pride, and she can't wait to show her new uniform to the brunette.

Ymir's smile cracks and her mood is suddenly dampened like a sheet of paper dunked in icy cold water. She offers a neutral response, heart thundering and hands trembling. She ends the call there, because she cannot stand the thought of never seeing Krista again and she knows if Krista kept talking she'd eventually buy the next ticket to New York City this very minute.

She thinks of telling Krista her little secret, of how the fate of the world is within her palms, how she could destroy the corrupt governments with a single breath, how at this very instant she could be killed or tortured. But she decides against it, because really, it's not worth having her worry over her safety. A happy Krista makes a happy Ymir; it's that simple.

One day, three years after they met, she decides to see her again.

Krista is overjoyed at this development and immediately announces that her guest room has been furnished for her tall friend. Ymir chuckles huskily into the receiver in response. Once there, the brunette notices that her apartment is full of life and joy and memories and it makes her heart clench painfully because _she _isn't on the walls decorated with happy faces and nostalgic moments. It makes her hands twitch, her lips quiver, but she is quick to cover her expression with a cool facade and walks to her room, backpack on her bed. She travels light, and she has no room for souvenirs, save for a little photograph Krista had mailed to her when she'd stayed in Mexico.

Ymir is jet lagged and falls asleep quickly, Krista watching fondly from the doorway. Hours pass, and when Ymir wakes again, breath short and sweat on her brow, she scolds herself for her lapse in judgment and immediately begins to pack her things. Krista cannot be around her, or she would be used against her. It's a horrible, nagging thought that clouds her every thought, decision and consciousness. Stay away, it says, and go very far.

Ymir hates herself for being this weak, for succumbing to her personal desires and coming back to Krista. It's not right, she tells herself, to bring someone with a normal life into your crazy existence.

But the second she turns the knob, Krista is waiting for her, hand on her wrist. She has this sad, knowing look in her eyes, as if she knew all along that Ymir wouldn't stay for the promised length. Ymir turns to her, and allows her selfishness to consume her once more. She presses her lips to hers in a hard kiss, and grabs her shoulders when the blonde reciprocates with her shirt in her fists and her eyes closed shut.

They back into the blonde's bedroom, groaning and tugging at their clothes. Ymir allows the fire to consume her whole, and drowns in Krista's whimpers and moans.

In the morning, Ymir's heart clenches again and she grits her teeth. She turns the door knob, leaving Krista cold and alone in her bed. She closes the door behind her and rushes down the hall. The brunette bumps into the walls a few times and even trips in her haste.

She vows to never see her again.

Two years follow that moment of weakness, followed by another. She stops at a phone booth on the cramped streets of Chinatown, a busy district in the provincial capital of Toronto. It smells like fried meat and vomit, but she simply pinches her nose and puts the receiver to her shoulder. She's trembling, because her shoulder is wounded from another attempt on her life. She's been caught, finally, and it would only be a matter of time before she was killed.

She could see it now: Krista, waking up in the morning, tuning to the local news station then seeing Ymir's corpse in the streets, crowded by anxious reporters and health professionals and expert criminologists. Maybe Ymir would get a boring report, or maybe the government would decide to send a message by exposing Ymir as a traitor to the nation. Either way, she wanted Krista to know the truth before the inevitable happened.

The phone rings once, twice, yet Krista does not pick up. Maybe she changed her number, or moved? Ymir squeezes her eyes shut and shudders as she exhales. She exhausts her calling cards, again and again and again until _finally_ someone picks up.

"Hello?" Krista's voice is like a harmonious melody to her ears and Ymir, for the first time in her life, thanks whatever god is in charge of her luck.

"Krista," she breathes.

"Ymir? Is that you?"

"Yeah.. I'm.. in a real tight spot right now and-"

"Hold on. There's someone at the door."

Ymir's eyes widen. "No, Krista, don't-!"

Krista chats politely with the man at the door and closes it after a few minutes. Ymir holds her breath and waits for Krista to talk to her.

"It was just a man asking if I wanted to buy his product, that's all. So, how have you been?"

Ymir is silent, her mind going through all the possible scenarios. "That's all you can say? I walk out for two years, never calling, and you just talk to me like it's normal again?"

"Why not? We're friends, aren't we?"

Ymir hasn't been a very good friend, and they both know this, yet Krista decides to overlook it, if only for the sake of hearing her friend's voice. She wants Ymir by her side, laughing and bickering with her like they do on the phone, but she knows it's an empty wish, solely a desire to never be fulfilled.

"...yeah, friends. Listen, Krista.. I-"

Ymir coughs then, and clutches her stomach. They'd gotten her there, too, and she can already see the glass of the booth speckled with blood. Krista voices her concern but Ymir plays it off as a cold.

"I just wanted to let you know I'm still alive," Ymir says, "but I have to go now. Bye."

"Ymir, no, please-"

She hangs up and limps to the nearest hospital. She decides then that she should see Krista one last time before they catch her, and it's her selfishness that ruins them both in the end.

After she's healed, she grabs a short flight to New York City and knocks on Krista's apartment door impatiently. When a tall dark haired man answers her instead, Ymir feels her stomach drop to her toes. Her mouth quivers as she tries to force a polite smile, her fists tightly clenched.

"Is Krista here?"

"Oh, you mean the previous tenant? Nah, I heard she was involved in some freak accident and was killed. I live here now."

"What?"

Ymir feels her body fill with ice, her mouth drop open and her body paralyze with dread. An agonizing tightness swallows her whole, and she can feel her shoulder throb painfully. She's hysterical, shouting out profanities and lunging at the man. He pushes her back, slamming the door in her face and Ymir slumps against the wall, tears rushing down her face.

She was too late. They got to her first.

She stumbles away from the apartment, away from everything. She enters a library, asks for a paper and pen, and writes her will. She jots down her big secret, tucks it into a paperback edition of George Orwell's '1984', and leaves the building.

Her movements are unfocused, slow and filled with despair. She feels numb. Nothing matters anymore, the secret, the government, her life... nothing matters. Krista is gone, taken by people who did not understand love and compassion. In the end, Ymir supposed she was responsible for Krista's death.

She was all she ever wanted, all she could ever ask for, and she was gone.

She walks to a river and leans over the railing. It's deep enough, she thinks, and throws herself off without a second thought.

Her lungs are filling with cold water, her eyes are burning, but at least she can see Krista's reassuring smile as she exhales her final breath.


End file.
